


I Think You're Something I Can't Have

by sweetbutterbliss



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Brief Mention of Adoption, Brief mention of abortion, College, Cuddling, Fumbling BBs, Lydia is Perfect, M/M, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Oral Sex, Pining, supernatural monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2680370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbutterbliss/pseuds/sweetbutterbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek never thought he'd ever get the opportunity to be a dad, but now Stiles is telling him that he's pregnant. He wants the best for Stiles, and surely that doesn't involve having a baby at 22. With Derek, of all people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think You're Something I Can't Have

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ryn11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryn11/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Ryn! I hope you like it.
> 
>  
> 
> [Heather](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HTH31) beta'd as usual.
> 
> Title from the [Jesus Mary Chain song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=087CuqXhl7s#t=20)

Stiles sprawls out sideways across Lydia's massive bed, his head in Erica's lap as her fingers scritch through his hair. Kira is pressed against the headboard, chewing the side of her thumb, and Lydia is filing her nails beside her, a laptop balanced across her knees with Allison's face peering out all the way from France.

They're all surrounded by pink and purple plastic wands and matching packages.

"Why do they use a smiley face?! There's nothing remotely smiley about this situation," Stiles groans unhappily.

Lydia swats at him with her emery board. "For some people, people who plan and choose to have children, it's a smiley time. However, stupid boys who don't make their werewolf fuck buddies wear condoms appear not to appreciate it."

She ignores Stiles' wounded gasp and continues.

"Just because it's rare for a boy to get pregnant doesn't mean you should just ignore it, Stiles."

"Well that ship has already sailed, my evil, judgmental queen."

Allison's laugh is tinny and Lydia shakes the laptop in retaliation.

"You know that doesn't actually affect me, Lyds."

"Maybe I should do another one?" Stiles half sits up, a hopeful look on his face.

"I don't think the 18th test is going to change anything, Batman," Erica pushes him back down.

Kira's phone pings and she leans over the bed to dig it out of her backpack. "It's Scott."

"Oh shit. I have to tell Scott. "

"Do you want me to do it for you?" Kira asks, ever helpful.

"No. I'll do it."

They sit in silence, the soft ping of Kira's phone the only sound in the room.

"He says he's catching a ride with your dad and Melissa to come see the ceremony."

"Oh shit, I have to tell my _Dad_ ," Stiles fights the urge to curl up in the fetal position and panic. Erica shushes him when his heartbeat speeds up.

"At least Derek won't be there," Kira supplies.

Stiles sits up so fast he knocks Erica off the bed.

"Oh shit. I have to tell Derek," he whispers.

***

Stiles tugs at the collar of his robe and waits for his name to be called. It's too fucking hot to be sitting outside for this many hours. He curses his dad for not having a last name that starts with A, and scans the crowd, still unable make out his Dad with Scott and Melissa. All he can see is a blur of faces staring out at him from the stadium.

Today is the first day he hasn't felt like throwing everything up in a while. He thinks he might be two months along, and so far it's been miserable. He knocks on the side of his chair for luck and hopes he doesn't yak all over the dean in front of everyone. When they call his name, he leaps up before the announcer can finish butchering his first name.

"Just Stiles, thanks!" he shouts, causing a titter to run through the crowd. He pauses and smiles with the dean, accepting his fake degree and flipping his tassel over the side of his mortarboard. He grins at Erica and Lydia before taking his seat again. Now all he has to do is sit and wait for the rest of the students to be called. Finally, Yukimura is called and it's over. They cheer and hug, throwing their hats into the air. It's really not as fun as movies have led Stiles to believe, he loses his own and gets knocked on the head by two stray ones.

He grimaces, rubbing his head, and turns at the sound of his name. His dad is waving and making his way across the field, trailed by Melissa. Scott detours off to grab Kira and spin her around. Stiles rolls his eyes, used to playing second fiddle to Scott's epic love life. He focuses his attention on his dad and stepmom, and...Derek.

Stiles swallows hard and the churn in his stomach he'd valiantly avoided earlier threatens to make a re-appearance. Derek looks good. Very good. He's wearing a tailored suit with a green tie that makes his eyes seem brighter, and he's smiling a genuine smile that probably wouldn't be there if he knew what Stiles knows. Stiles hasn't told him yet, and he's so scared that he'll just blurt it out that he bites down hard on his bottom lip.

His Dad hugs him to within an inch of his life, and Melissa has to pry him off so she can hug him too. Dad clears his throat and beams at Stiles, his eyes sparkling. Stiles is so busy focusing on not crying in his dad's face, that he lets out a squawk when Derek pulls him into a hug and buries his nose in Stiles' neck. He releases him slowly, but not before pressing a dry, chaste kiss to his mouth.

Dad raises an eyebrow and Melissa looks smug, like she's known about their...thing all along. They haven't been keeping it a secret per se, they just don't do this. This affection-in-public thing. He finds it makes him happy though, he feels relaxed for the first time since that stupid pink smiley face had appeared and ruined his life. He laughs and shrugs; Derek is turning pink, so Stiles kisses him again, because apparently they do that now.

***

Derek is driving Boyd and Erica home, reluctantly leaving Stiles with an apartment to pack up. Scott and Stiles have plans for a "guys' road trip." Derek suspects this is code for 'eat junk food and try not to drive the moving truck off the road while Scott talks about Kira the entire time.' 

He still feels uncomfortable at how he'd lost control and just kissed Stiles in front of the Sheriff. The Sheriff who now carries wolfsbane bullets. Stiles had just smelled so perfect; his usual scent of ink and ozone, like too much energy burning off. But also something else, something familiar that Derek can't put his finger on. It's a delicious scent though and he supposes he should be grateful that all he'd done was _kiss_ Stiles in public.

He's back in his loft a week later, reading, when he hears the familiar sound of Stiles' decrepit jeep. He's rolling open the metal door before Stiles has even made it all the way up the stairs.

"Miss me, big guy?" Stiles smirks and cocks his hip against the banister.

Derek just bares all his teeth in a semblance of a smile, and drags him in by his flannel collar. He shuts the door and whirls around, pulling Stiles up against him. He still smells of something new, but also somehow familiar, and it makes his wolf a little crazy. He presses his smile into the column of Stiles' neck, licking once and biting down. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a mark. Stiles gasps and arches into him, and Derek gives into the urge he's had for a week and kisses him the way he'd wanted to at the graduation, with teeth and tongue; the taste of Stiles and the faint hint of copper making him groan. He walks them back toward the bed, guiding Stiles' clumsy feet like he's the lead in a dance.

He lets go of Stiles and shoves him to the bed. Stiles wastes no time and begins squirming out of his clothes. Derek takes a second to watch Stiles and the way he moves, grinning and pressing his hand against his cock in his sweatpants.

"What the fuck, Derek? Naked. Now," Stiles looks petulant and adorable with his bottom lip pushed out.

Derek complies, pulling his t-shirt over his head and throwing it at Stiles' face, then pushing his sweatpants down around his ankles, using his toes to pull them off his feet. He stands straight and watches, pleased as Stiles' mouth drops open and his cock visibly fills. 

"Oh my god. I missed you so much."

"Me too." 

Stiles crows and fists pumps. "So you admit it!"

"Shut up," Derek crawls up the bed until he is face to face with Stiles' dick. He takes it in his hand, enjoying the heft, and wraps his fingers around the base before licking the head and then swallowing it all the way down until he can feel it in the back of his throat. He starts a rhythm, getting it sloppy with spit until Stiles is tugging at his hair and moaning nonsense.

He comes up for air and orders Stiles to get the lube. Stiles fumbles at the side table drawer, almost kneeing Derek in the face, before he grabs it and tosses it at Derek's head.

"Thanks," Derek sits back on his heels and flips open the cap, slicking his fingers. Stiles arches his hips and bites his lip when Derek slides his first finger in; they haven't been able to do this for a couple of months, and he can feel how tight Stiles is. He adds another finger and leans forward to kiss Stiles, one hand propped on the bed beside his head. Stiles tries to kiss back but Derek adds a third finger and all he can do is writhe around instead.

"Can I ride you?" Stiles manages to gasp out when Derek slips his fingers free and starts slicking himself up.

Derek doesn't answer just flops over onto his back and gestures at his hard on, before folding his arms behind his head.

"Smug asshole," Stiles mutters as he swings one leg over Derek to straddle him. He's facing away from Derek, so he frees his hand to grab at Stiles' pert little ass and spread him to thumb at his slick hole. With his other hand, he fishes around in the still open drawer for a condom, before Stiles shakes his head sharply.

"No need."

Derek hears his heart skip a beat, but before he can comment Stiles reaches behind himself and bats Derek's hands away before taking hold of his cock and sliding him in slowly. He takes a minute when he's fully inside and shifts slightly, while Derek does his best not to move. The shifts gradually become rolls of his hips, and Derek grits his teeth, fisting the sheets, hearing the pop of the elastic as he pulls the edges free.

He can't see Stiles, but he knows he's grinning, happy with himself. He slides up slowly and drops down fast, his ass slapping against Derek's hip. Derek can see everything from this angle, particularly the way his cock slips in and out, shiny and red. Stiles' back muscles play and Derek grips his hips too hard. Stiles looks over his shoulder, a finger in his mouth, while his hips roll and then Derek feels a slick finger pressing gently at his hole. He almost howls at the differing sensations; the tight clench of Stiles, and the press of his finger crooking and finding the perfect spot, sending sparks skittering across his nerves.

He does growl then, too loudly, and he sits up, gripping Stiles around the waist. He rests his weight on one arm and bends his knees, lifting Stiles' weight up easily and fucks into him. Stiles laughs and holds on for the ride, chanting _derekderekderekgonnacomederek_

Derek slams into him one more time and stills, trembling with his own orgasm before collapsing back onto the bed. He slips out of Stiles, who rolls over onto the other side of the bed.

"Gross, wet spot," Stiles complains, but doesn't move.

He's covered in his own come and looks ready to pass out, so Derek rolls out of bed to clean them up. He hears Stiles slurring sleepy about how he hates to see him leave but loves to watch him go. Derek just smiles and shakes his head, and by the time he returns with a cloth Stiles is asleep, in the wet spot with cum drying on him.

He cleans Stiles up and manhandles him out of the wet spot to sleep on top of Derek. He wraps an arm around his narrow waist and blows away the strands of Stiles' hair now beneath his chin. He feels something tight unravel in his chest and lets himself fall asleep, the smell of his mate surrounding him.

***

It takes Derek a few minutes to hear what Stiles just said. They're standing in the kitchen, the coffeepot percolating loudly in the silence. Stiles looks adorable with his hair standing on end and wearing Derek's sweatpants, cinched tight around his smaller waist.

Derek is wearing pajamas, and was in the middle of grabbing milk out of the fridge. He lets the door shut slowly and stares at Stiles' terrified expression. He's barefoot and his feet are cold; shouldn't he be wearing shoes for this conversation? Adults who are going to be parents wear shoes, don't they?

"Pregnant?" his voice comes out in a croak.

"Yeah," Stiles swallows loudly, his heartbeat caroming inside his chest.

Derek gapes at him. Now he recognizes the scent mixed with Stiles' own. It's _his_ scent. The scent of family, growing inside his friend. Fuck buddy? His mate. His mate that he's known about for so long, but won't admit even to himself.

"What are you going to do?" Derek asks, wincing at himself. The words fall out of his mouth, klunky and wrong.

Stiles looks like he's been slapped. He reels back and makes a wounded noise. Derek watches him gather up his clothes and keys, pulling his shirt back on with short, sharp movements. 

"Stiles...I didn't..."

"Fuck you," Stiles hisses, and now Derek can see the tears. His chest feels tight again, like he swallowed something too large.

Stiles barges out of the loft, leaving the door open, and Derek can only stand and stare at the spot where Stiles used to be.

***

Derek can't find it in himself to argue with anything Scott or the Sheriff shout at him.

Because mostly he agrees. He's ruining Stiles' life, he isn't ready for a kid, and he has no idea what he's going to do. They have a long list of things to complain about, and Derek just stands there, hands in his pockets, and nods.

He hears a clatter on the stairs and Stiles barging down them with his usual grace. 

"Guys!" he shouts over his best friend and his father. Derek can only look at him. He still smells perfect, like Stiles, and what he now recognizes as the scent of pack. Hale pack, not McCall. He smells like Derek and family, and it hurts. It hurts more that Stiles smells sad, though. He wants to bundle him up and kiss it all away, but he just stands there, staring like the coward he is.

"Thanks for your protection or whatever. But it _does_ take two to tango. I had some part in this."

"Son, Scott and I are just worried about you," the Sheriff sounds reluctant to think about said acts.

"Yeah? Well I'm worried about me too. But that doesn't mean you get to berate Derek like he's some evil...I don't know....impregnator."

Even Derek raises his eyebrow at that one.

"You know what I mean, Dad. We're both in this, and I've decided I'm having this baby, so I'm going to need him around. Just...please don't kill him," Stiles juts his chin out in defiance, as though waiting for someone to argue with him.

Derek feels an unexpected sense of relief to hear that Stiles still wants to have the baby. He was 100% ready to support Stiles in whatever decision he made, and maybe it's selfish, but he's happy to know he'll get to have a piece of the pack he thought he'd lost. He smothers his happiness by reminding himself he's getting it at Stiles' expense.

The sheriff's shoulders droop, but he smiles tentatively.

"Alright, Stiles. I love you and we'll be here no matter what. Just make sure this is what you really want."

"It is. I promise."

Scott looks skeptical, and is still narrowing his eyes at Derek.

"Scott, could you just drop the alpha act for a minute? I'd rather just have my best friend right now," he grips Scott's shoulder and turns him away from glaring at Derek.

"Yeah, okay. Just let me know if you do need that?"

"Right. Course I will. I'll let you get all fanged out and flash your red eyes at him. I promise." 

Scott seems satisfied with that and nods, pulling Stiles into a hug.

Derek looks on, not sure what to do now that he doesn't appear to be in imminent danger. 

"I have to go meet Kira, so call me later," Scott insists, pulling Stiles into a quick hug, and leaves, but not before baring his too sharp teeth at Derek and pointing at himself then at Derek again like they are in some De Niro movie.

"And I'll just be in the kitchen if you need anything," the sheriff glares pointedly, less wolfy, but still as terrifying.

Stiles huffs and shoves at the two of them until they reluctantly leave.

Shaking his head, Stiles flops his lanky body onto the couch, resting his head against the back and stares at the ceiling. "Sit."

Derek sits gingerly on the edge of the couch, hands fisted and hanging between his legs.

"Good boy," Stiles laughs, but it sounds hollow.

Derek stares at the threadbare carpet, memorizing a patchy stain that peers out from the edge of the rug. He wonders if it's something Stiles had done when he was little. Stiles seems like he was the type of kid to spill his Kool Aid constantly.

"So. I decided what _I'm_ going to do," Stiles still won't look at him.

"I'm sorry. That was a shitty thing to say. I didn't mean it that way. I'm here for you, whatever you want to do, is what I meant," Derek mumbles.

"Even if it's to have the baby?" Stiles' voice is barely a whisper and he sits up to look directly at Derek.

"Yes. Absolutely," he tries to rein in his enthusiasm for ruining Stiles' life. "I mean, of course we can talk about other options if you want."

"Like what?" there's something dangerous in Stiles' narrow gaze. "'cause I'm not having an abortion. I'm not against them, I just don't want to."

"Okay," Derek exhales shakily and nods.

"So what other 'options' are there?"

> Derek can hear the sarcastic air quotes in Stiles' voice. _None. The only option is for you to have my baby, and be with me forever and ever._

"Um...adoption?"

"Oh, right. And the first time the baby wolfs out on its new parents, then what?"

"I mean, other packs. Mom used to negotiate that kind of thing."

"Derek, it sounds like you don't want this baby." He draws out the word 'sounds' and glares at the floor.

Derek swallows, his mind racing; he truly wants what's best for Stiles. And having a baby at 22 probably isn't that. But God, how he wants this baby. He's never thought of himself as a dad, but now he can't stop thinking about it. And the thought of someone else raising his child is making him want to wolf out right here in the living room. He takes a slow breath and tries to be honest as he can.

"I do. I mean, I want what you want. I just don't want to be the reason why your life stops," he tugs at his hair and every word feels like a heavy stone.

"I don't think my life will stop. Maybe...slow down a little. And hey, I meant it when I said I had a part in this. I can't blame you without blaming myself. I'm the one who let you get your wolfy sperm everywhere," Stiles looks so earnest as he speaks that Derek can't even laugh at that.

"Okay, so...we're keeping it?" Derek can't help the edge of hope that bleeds into his words.

"Yup. No more talk of options. We're doing this together."

"Yeah. Together. For the baby."

Stiles winces but nods. "Yeah. For the baby. That's what we're doing."

"Whatever you need from me. Or don't. I guess, just let me know," Derek resists the urge to kiss the sad pout off Stiles' pretty mouth. Instead he inhales quickly and looks out of the window. "So...now what?"

***

'Now what' is a doctor's appointment. Deaton recommends an obstetrician two towns over who specializes in supernatural pregnancies. She's nice, and smells different, but Derek can't figure out quite what she is. During the first appointment, he stands at Stiles' head, watching the blinking dot and finds himself having to blink away tears when the mechanized sound of their baby's heartbeat fills the tiny room. Stiles squeezes his hand too hard and Derek has to kiss him.

They don't talk about it, but they haven't had sex since the night Stiles came back from college. Derek doesn't want Stiles to think he's using him for sex, or as some kind of baby vessel. So he stears clear and they pretend as though it's normal.

The hard thing is that they still drift toward each other. They end up beside each other in crowds and Stiles is always slumped into his shoulder during movies or pack gatherings. It's simultaneously the best and worst thing in Derek's life. Stiles smells right and good, and Derek wants to bury his face in his neck and just breathe. He wants to roll himself all over Stiles' body so he smells owned. All he allows himself is to take big gulps of air, and clench his fists to keep from grabbing Stiles.

Stiles sometimes gets sad and Derek doesn't know why, because he always says he's fine. Even though Derek can tell he's lying, he continues to insist there's nothing wrong. Derek thinks maybe it's because he's in Stiles' space too much. He needs a project that's _not_ watching Stiles sleep like the creeper he is.

He buys paint, and a crib, and everything else the too-friendly sales woman insists he needs. As he adds the last bundle to the overflowing Toyota he feels a little duped, but what the fuck does he know? He's never been a dad before, but he guesses that wipes need warming; it probably does suck to have your ass wiped with cold wipes. It's not like he can't afford it, so he shrugs and shuts the hatch with a little effort.

He is in the middle of reading the completely baffling crib assembly instructions when he hears Stiles bang open the door.

"Yo, big guy!" he skids to a stop in the doorway of the spare room and stares. Derek takes a minute to stare himself. Stiles refuses to stop wearing his old ironic t-shirts and they're starting to stretch over the barely there pooch of his expanding stomach, rising up to showcase strips of pale skin whenever he moves. Derek bites his lip and thanks God for the thousandth time that humans can't smell arousal.

"What's this?" Stiles' mouth is still hanging open.

"It's for the baby?" Derek ventures, still kneeling on the floor surrounded by bits of crib.

"You want the baby to live here?" Stiles asks.

"Um, I just thought...it doesn't have to. We can take all this stuff to your dad's if you want. I didn't mean to assume..."

Stiles cuts him off with a raised hand and smile.

"No. It's perfect, actually. Thank you."

Derek grins back and shyly starts showing him all the things he was conned into buying. Stiles explains it all, telling Derek about all the research he's done, and Derek is pleased that he didn't fuck up. Stiles knows the pros and cons of everything, shrugging and muttering about research, ever so slightly embarrassed.

Derek shows him the paint he picked out. It's called 'Twilight Evening,' but it just looks like a dark purple to him.

"I thought it seemed soothing," he rubs the back of his neck and Stiles laughs delightedly.

"No, really, it's perfect."

***

They have _the_ appointment and find out that the baby is a boy. Stiles can sense Derek puffing up with pride like the Neanderthal he pretends he's not, so clearly overjoyed to have produced a son. But he doesn't call him out on it, he just grins so hard his face hurts. Dr. Ellis circles his willy as though they need proof and then prints out the picture for them.

As soon as he's home, he shoves it into his dad's face and grins. "His first nude, Dad!"

Dad shakes his head but smiles and pulls him in for hug. "Now you have to think of a name, son."

"Oh, shit."

Stiles knows the importance of names; he doesn't want to saddle his poor offspring with the unpronounceable monstrosity he's had to deal with his entire life. But he also doesn't want something boring like Derek. He ignores the offended huff as he pours over baby name books. He's probably worrying too much about it, but it's easier than worrying about his relationship with Derek. Or, rather, his non-existent relationship with Derek. 

Oh, they hang out, they watch movies together and they marathon shows on Netflix. Derek sits too close and always makes sure Stiles is warm and fed. He jumps up if Stiles voices even a hint of a craving and has it for him within the half hour. He's attentive and beautiful and just generally fucking perfect, in a way that Stiles could never have anticipated.

Except that he obviously doesn't want Stiles. Not in that way. They've kissed a few times but it hasn't led to anything. He's here for the as-yet-unnamed baby boy that Stiles is carrying, and that's it. Stiles feels heavy all over if he thinks about it too hard; he knows Derek can sense it, but he can't bring himself to explain. _I'm desperately in love with you and want to climb like you a tree pretty much 100% of the time._

Instead, he lies. Derek knows he's lying, but will only narrow his eyes at him before he drops the subject. A part of him wants Derek to pester him, to demand an answer so he can stop carrying around this awful feeling. Why does love hurt so fucking much? Love songs and romantic movies have led him wrong. Love isn't fireworks and foot pops, it's depressing and so. fucking. hard.

Speaking of hard, he's also desperately tired of jerking off. His stomach isn't too big yet but he doesn't know what he's going to do when he can't reach his neglected cock anymore. He's also exhausted, in the general sense. So he's either napping or jerking off. Or eating. That's all he does and it's driving him crazy.

In the beginning of the third trimester, they're watching as many episodes of Due South as Stiles can illegally download. Stiles is idly throwing popcorn into his mouth from the bowl resting on his stomach when he lets out a shout. Derek, who had fallen asleep, wakes with a growl and popcorn in his hair.

"Callum!"

"Derek," Derek looks offended as he points at himself. As though Stiles has finally lost it.

"Yes. But for the baby...Callum. Not too weird, not too boring. I think it means Dove. I read that somewhere. Bald Dove?"

"You want our son to be named Bald Dove?"

"Yes. I do."

Derek is quiet for so long that Stiles begins to feel the edges of panic. But then Derek shrugs and smiles.

"I like it. Callum Stilinski-Hale."

"Oh my God, Derek, we just named our baby. We're grown ups, dude!" Stiles fist pumps, spilling more popcorn onto the sofa, and Derek. He wants to kiss Derek in celebration, but he remembers almost too late that they don't do that anymore, and it puts a damper on his excitement.

"Callum," he whispers, and spreads his palm across his stomach.

***

"It's a boy, Cora," Derek is pressing the phone so hard to his ear that he can hear it creaking.

"Derek, you know what this means? This means another Hale," her voice is thick with tears, but Derek can tell she's definitely smiling too.

"Well. A Stilinksi-Hale."

"You know what I mean, asshole."

Derek grins at the ground and nods. "Yeah," he whispers.

***

Stiles is comparing ice creams. It's serious business. Does he want mint chip or rocky road? Or both? He shrugs and drops both of them in the basket. He uses his stomach to propel the cart forward, only using his hands to course correct. The baby is rolling around and kicking mostly at night, when Stiles wants to sleep. Derek says he can hear his rabbiting heartbeat beneath Stiles' own. He wishes he could hear it too. He caresses his stomach as he contemplates the chip aisle. Now he must make important dip decisions.

"Stiles?"

He turns around to see Matt Dahler standing behind him. He hasn't seen him since high school; he'd had an-obsessive-to-the-point-of-creepy crush on Allison, so they'd all avoided him mostly. 

"Yeah. Hey, Matt."

"I didn't know you were expecting," Matt smiles and gestures to his stomach.

"Oh yeah. Just a few months left now," he's tired of people touching him, or telling him big he is, or the absolute worst...telling him horror stories about birth and newborns. Why do people think that's a good idea? So he tenses, waiting for the inevitable "when my sister was pregnant...." bullshit.

But Matt just smiles and nods.

"Who's the lucky guy then?"

"Oh. It's uh...not someone you'd know. But we're not like, together," he trips over the words, his heart stuttering.

"Oh, that's fortunate then," Matt slides in closer. "I mean, it's a shame for that guy, he must be a real idiot."

Stiles is fat. And wearing sweatpants, and one of Derek's tees, that he's pretty sure has a huge orange soda stain down the front. He hadn't showered this morning, because getting off the couch to waddle to the bathroom had seemed like much too much effort. And to top it all off, the guy he's pathetically and desperately in love with barely wants to touch him. So sue him if he feels a little tingle of excitement at someone being interested in him.

He smiles tentatively and nods. "Yeah, he kind of is."

Matt laughs and is suddenly standing almost too close to Stiles. "Can I take you out? We could get coffee...or whatever pregnant guys drink?"

"Uh, no, coffee is good. Coffee is great."

"You're great. How about now?" Without waiting for an answer, Matt sets his cans of soup and cat food in the cart and shoves it away from them. He grabs Stiles' hand and all but drags him out of the store to the coffeeshop on the corner.

***

Derek is pacing, clenching and unclenching his fists. Peter is sitting on the stairs smirking, as though he has any other expression, and Boyd is watching from the couch, his face carefully blank.

"He was practically mauling him! Did you see that?" Derek grits his teeth.

He'd been driving back from the preserve with Boyd when he'd noticed a familiar pregnant shape sitting too close to an unfamiliar man, their heads bent and almost touching at the coffeeshop on main. The stoplight changed to green, but Derek hadn't moved until Boyd urged him forward.

Boyd had just barely talked him out of throwing a bitchfit right there in the middle of town, and wolfing out on the stranger who was _touching_ his _mate._ _His!_

"If I'd known the little darling was on the market, I'd have snatched him up myself," Peter leers, deliberately antagonistic, and Derek leaps at him. Peter jumps out of the way just in time, and Derek clatters into the staircase. He slumps there, panting angrily.

"Peter's an ass. Ignore him," Boyd instructs. Peter sniffs and moves to sit on the couch. Boyd drops a heavy hand on Derek's shoulder. "You can't decide who he's going to date if you won't man up and say something, Derek."

"What? I don't know what you're talking about. I don't care who he dates," Derek looks at his feet, suddenly very interesting to him.

"As entertaining as watching you two idiots dance around each other is, it's getting truly old." Peter adds, examining his claws.

"You have a second chance at a family, Derek. I _know_ what a big deal that is. Don't fucking blow it by being stubborn and scared," Boyd's wisdom is bordering on irritating.

"I liked you a lot better when you were stoic and silent," Derek grumbles.

"Yeah, well Erica's making me confront my feelings. So if I have to, then you have to."

Derek hides his head in his hands and groans. That sounds like something he won't enjoy at all.

***

By the end of the date, Stiles remembers why they called Matt, 'Creepy Matt.' He won't stop touching Stiles and asking inappropriate questions about sex while pregnant. Stiles avoids any kind of answer; it's not like he'd know anyway. He just wants to go home and shower. He hasn't even drunk his free coffee, scared Matt has roofied him or something. The man is a sleaze. 

When he asks if he can take pregnant nudes of Stiles, that's the last straw.

"They'd be really tasteful, I promise. I wouldn't distribute them or anything. They'd be for my own private collection."

"Uhhhh...on that note. I have an appointment. Sooooo, I'll see you later, maybe." _Except, not at all._

Stiles scurries back to the jeep as fast as his extra bulk will allow. He contemplates going back to the store and getting his damn ice cream, but instead he wearily climbs in and starts the drive home.

Now, as it turns out, he's only attractive to desperate weirdos _and_ he has no ice cream to show for it. What a shit day.

He trudges up the stairs to the loft and slumps against the wall for a minute to catch his breath. He prods at his stomach. "Stop crowding my lungs, babywolf."

He steps inside and, before he can shut the door, Derek is looming in his face. Sniffing him.

"Stop! Boundaries!" Stiles pushes him back and Derek lets him.

"You smell like someone else."

"Uh yeah, I...went on a date," he says it to be mean, and feels a sense of satisfaction when Derek winces and steps back further.

Boyd and Peter are both sitting on the couch; Peter looks entertained as usual, and Boyd looks equal parts embarrassed and pained to be witness to this display.

"You went out on a date? Now you smell like a stranger."

"Hey, newsflash, big guy! You don't get to tell me who I date. You don't fucking want me, you don't get a say!"

Derek gapes at him as Stiles shoves and shoves, until Derek is stumbling over the new bouncy seat he'd bought just yesterday. 

"I'm so tired of this shit!" Stiles shouts as loud as he can, trying to hold back tears.

Derek reaches for him, his face confused, crumbling into something almost hurt. 

"No," Stiles moves out of reach, swiping tears from his face. 

"Stiles...I..."

"SHUT UP!" he shouts. "I don't want to hear it," he lets out one more guttural yell and stomps into the baby's room, slamming the door so hard it that sets off the mobile and there's a tinny variation of "Dream a Little Dream" to accompany his rant.

Stiles plops down awkwardly on the floor, his back against the door. He buries his head in his knees and just lets himself cry. Callum is wiggling around, clearly unhappy, and he pets at his belly, making soothing noises. He ignores Derek's frantic knocking and presses against where he thinks the baby's head is.

"Just you and me, babywolf. You and me against the world."

After a while the knocking subsides, and Stiles' eyes droop, the constant lullaby luring him into sleep. He thinks about getting up to turn it off, but that would require too much effort, so he gives in and falls asleep propped against the door.

***

Stiles wakes up and it's dark outside. He listens at the door but can't hear anything. He has to pee something fierce, and it's painful to extricate himself from the position he's pretzeled himself into. He uses the door as leverage and hoists himself up, shuffling into the adjoining bathroom. Once he's done, he splashes water on his face and takes a deep breath, holding onto the sides of the sink.

The living room is also dark but he can just make out Erica sitting on the couch, staring at her phone.

"Stiles! Fuck. Derek said to wait here for you."

"Where did he go?"

Erica's eyes burn gold and she seems to vibrate with contained energy. "Some big bad on the outskirts of the preserve. It attacked some hunters and Scott found it, but he needed Boyd and Derek's help." 

"So they just fucking took off to fight it? Unbelievable! No, it's entirely believable actually. What a bunch of assholes!"

"Stiles, you can't go follow them."

"But..." he looks down at his stomach, the way it's protruding from his shirt, and runs a brief hand across it. "Right. So I can't."

"Boyd said he'll call me the minute they're safe."

"How long ago...?"

"About an hour and a half."

He drops down next to Erica and nuzzles in next to her. Erica grabs his hand and squeezes, attempting to comfort him he guesses.

"Sorry you have to be my babysitter, Catwoman."

"It's my pleasure," but she doesn't smile. 

They're silent, taking comfort in each other and staring at the dark screen of her phone as the sun sets around them.

Stiles dozes off and is woken by the screech of the loft door's wheels. He jumps up, disoriented, and next thing he knows he's in Derek's arms. Derek had leapt over the couch and strode toward him with purpose. Once he has his arms wrapped around Stiles, he spares a moment for Erica; without taking his eyes off Stiles' face, he grunts out that Boyd is downstairs and everyone is fine.

"You don't look fine?" Stiles' voice shakes. Derek is covered in blood and gore, it's smeared across his face as though he'd attempted to wipe it clean. Stiles pulls his own mostly-clean shirt up and spits on it before trying to wipe away some of the worst bits. He gets a pretty clear area around Derek's mouth and nose. Derek lets him, his eyes closed, breathing deeply through his nose.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Stiles gently starts wiping the gunk out of his eyelashes and from beneath his eyes.

"Yeah. None of it's my blood. It exploded when Scott killed it. Still not entirely sure what what it was."

"Well, of course not. 'Cause you didn't wait until I could research it for you. You and your stupid hero complex," Stiles' voice is soft and fond, rather than the snarky and furious it should be.

"I didn't have time. And you weren't actually speaking to me at the time."

"Oh right. That," Stiles rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

Derek lets out a groan and presses his face into Stiles' shoulder, his hands splayed flat against the small of his back, pressing him even closer to Derek's body. Stiles feels as though Derek might lift him off his feet if he pulls any harder.

He feels the sticky wetness of blood against his neck and grimaces. But it's also accompanied by warm breath, and Derek setting his teeth gently against his skin. Stiles gingerly pets the gross strands of hair, not sure what to say.

Derek is mumbling something into his skin, but he can't make it out, so he tugs on the strands, getting his hands dirtier until Derek looks up again. His face is miserable and his mouth is set in a thin line. 

"You can date whoever you want. Of course you can. I'm sorry about earlier," he sounds so fucking sad.

Stiles makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

"You've gotta be the most emotionally stunted man I've ever met. And I'm the idiot who fell in love with you. So who's worse, huh?"

Derek blinks at him slowly, like an owl, his eyes bright and wet.

"You love me?"

"Yup. I love you so much it fucking hurts, Derek. And I also hate you. I love you so much that I hate you."

Derek looks stunned and rocks back on his heels, Stiles' feet do leave the ground then, and he squawks unhappily. Derek sets him back down gently, and grins, baring all his straight, white teeth. God, Stiles hopes the baby gets those gnashers. 

"You love me so much that you hate me? That sounds pretty bad."

"It really is. You're such a dick."

Derek laughs and brushes his mouth against Stiles'. "I love you so much that I could never hate you. "

"Not...because of the baby?" Stiles takes a shaky breath, not even daring to hope.

"No. I've loved you for a lot longer than when the baby showed up."

Stiles almost rests his shoulder against Derek's gore covered chest, but reels back just in time and lets out a great sigh.

"You really should've said something."

"You didn't," Derek frowns.

"We're both the worst at this, but you're older so...." he trails off, knowing he has no defense.

"Lucky for us we can work on it together?"

"Yeah," Stiles squeezes his hand on Derek's upper arm and beams up at him. "But first, shower. Then we can work on it all night."

Derek groans and brings a hand up, smearing blood and monster goo on Stiles cheek.

"What the fuck?!"

"Now you have to shower with me," Derek laughs and carries Stiles to the bathroom. Stiles can't say he minds all that much.

Later, after they've made up for lost time with a few orgasms each, Derek spoons Stiles and tugs him back against that big, strong chest. He spreads a hand over Stiles' stomach and bites gently at the back of his neck. He's making a contented rumbling noise in his chest, something that sounds suspiciously like a purr, and Stiles can feel the vibrations through his own body.

"Are you happy?"

"God, yes, I have you. I have my mate, and we're having a baby. Together in every sense of the word," he whispers.

"Yeah. Together, " Stiles breathes and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

Epilogue -

Stiles can't see Derek from where he's lying, but he can hear him, hammering and cursing, attempting to build a treehouse in the backyard of their new house. Callum is lying beside him, starfished on the grass, and trying to peer up into the leaves, searching for Papa as well.

"I think you should've asked Boyd for help."

"Shut up, Stiles."

"Is that anyway to talk to your husband?"

"Yes, if my husband is as infuriating as you," Derek grumbles.

"Hmph!"

Callum sits up and sniffs the air. He's adorable. Stiles knows he's biased and everything, but the kid is gorgeous. He has Derek's dark hair and green-hazel eyes, but he has Stiles' tiny button nose and enough missing teeth that he looks like an old man with one adult tooth sticking out when he smiles. He has Derek's unruly eyebrows and Stiles has spent most of the poor kid's life trying to smooth them down with spit and his thumb until Callum bats him away impatiently.

But when he shifts, he doesn't have any. Just like Papa Sourwolf.

"Daddy, is it really high?"

"Uh, yeah buddy, pretty high. But it's fine, Papa can handle it."

"When's my sister going to be here?" he puts his tiny head down on Stiles' stomach and listens for the heartbeat. 

"Not soon enough," Stiles mumbles. He's getting to the uncomfortable stage again.

Callum gets bored quickly and beta shifts. He stalks around the yard, pouncing at butterflies and batting his claws into the air, missing every time.

"Hey babe, maybe we should get a werecat to help you?" Stiles teases. It's his favorite hobby, after all.

"I'm fine, Stiles!! Stop back seat carpentering."

"Whatever you say, dear husband."

Derek backflips out of the tree and lands next to Stiles, crouched onto all fours.

"Show off," Stiles mutters.

"You love it."

"I do. It really shouldn't be so hot."

Derek stretches out over him and kisses him, slow and easy like the summer day they're having.

"We need to get cleaned up for date night," Derek reminds him. "Peter said he'd be here at 6."

"Peter! I still can't believe you trust him with our child."

"Peter loves Callum, I think he's the only thing he gives a shit about besides himself."

"Uncle Peter's coming!" Callum whoops and tries to do a cartwheel, tumbling into the dirt halfway through.

"Ugh," Stiles mutters before levering himself up off the ground. The last time Peter had babysat, they'd come home to a chaotic mess and Stiles had panicked until they'd found Peter sleeping, covered in finger paints and papier mâché, with a tiny wolf cub crashed out on his chest.

Stiles still watches him with a wary eye. But Callum adores his Uncle Peter.

Derek shrugs. "He was fun when I was a kid too."

 _Yeah, until he went fucking crazy and started killing people._ Stiles chooses to keep his thoughts to himself. 

He stands over his husband, his exhibitionist husband who is doing pushups with Callum perched on his back, clutching at his shirt and laughing. 

Stiles feels his cock twitch at the way Derek's sweaty muscles bulge from the effort.

"You think you could do that with me later?"

"Yeah, Daddy wants wolfy rides!" Callum shouts.

"Yeah he does," Stiles leers and waggles his eyebrows.

Derek laughs and turns red, before knocking Callum to the ground in a controlled roll and scooping him up.

"We'll see. Maybe Papa wants Stiles Rides."

"What's Stiles Rides?" Stiles hears Callum ask Derek.

He laughs but doesn't hear Derek's answer as he steps inside. Stiles looks around his yard and takes a deep, happy breath. Derek pops his head out the door.

"You coming, Daddy?"

"Hopefully I will be later," Stiles responds, and laughs again at the way Derek still blushes at Stiles' lewd comments after five years of marriage.

"I love you."

He kisses Derek, a hard press of the mouth and only a bit of tongue. Derek mumbles his declaration of love, and circles an around Stiles' waist, keeping him place so he can continue kissing him.

"Uncle Peter is here!" Callum shouts, because the child only has one volume level. 

Stiles makes an 'ugh' noise in the back of his throat and rolls his eyes.

"Don't forget that you love me," Derek laughs and rubs his face against Stiles' neck.

"Yeah, yeah," he pats the top of Derek's head and tugs out of his grasp to go and make sure Peter hasn't eaten his kid. You never know.

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr.](http://sweetbutterbliss.tumblr.com/) Come talk to me or prompt me.


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